


Misadventures

by Isavuu



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert, Skunks and Showers, Spoilers, Swearing, and Other Misadventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isavuu/pseuds/Isavuu
Summary: Life in Hope County is rough with a cult running rampant, but the company of one Charlemagne Victor Boshaw makes it all worthwhile.
Relationships: Sharky Boshaw/Deputy | Judge, Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy | Judge, Sharky Boshaw/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

The world as you know it has been turned upside down and set ablaze. Okay, maybe half of the fires have been started by your ever-faithful companion, Charlemagne— or Sharky for brevity’s sake— but that’s not the point. Hope County is in ruins under the rule of Eden’s Gate, and you have been working yourself to death to try to right all the wrongs caused by the leader and his Heralds. The only thing tethering you to reality is Sharky: his incessant chatter on long drives, his ability to start a fire anywhere and anytime, and his unbelievable body heat on these cold Montana nights. You know for a fact that you would not have your sanity or your life if it wasn’t for him.

Take right now for example, as you both race down a mountainside, Judges so hot on your heels that you can feel their breath and splatters of drool on your ankles. Shooting blindly behind you, satisfied when you hear a wolf’s whimper and a thud, you can hear Sharky swearing loudly as three are on his tail, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Dep! Hunting spot!”

You see it too, a platform nestled into the treetops, and Sharky somehow starts to run even faster towards it as if a fire was lit under his ass. There’s only one ladder, and as you get closer and closer, you wonder who is going to be the one to get their feet gnawed on while the other climbs first. Guess it’ll be you, since your companion launches himself at the rusty metal rungs, narrowly escaping the Judges’ snapping jaws.

He wraps his arm around the ladder, slinging his shotgun and managing to shoot at and scare away both the group of Judges that were swarming the base of the tree and the ones following you a little too closely. As soon as you get close enough, he stupidly drops his gun and welcomes you full speed into his grasp. With a grunt, he pulls you over his body, so you’ll be the first one to safety. He helps you up by pushing a little too high on your thigh, until you flop onto the planks of the hunting spot. As he joins you up top, sitting so his legs dangle off the edge, he says with a breathless smirk, “Nothing like a handful of ass to give you that final push.”

You can’t help but strangle out a laugh intermixed with coughing from your screaming lungs. Tilting your head towards him, you watch him fix his hat while staring down at the new crop of Judges that are now circling the base of the tree like sharks out for blood. His smirk slowly fades as he sees his gun on the ground, being stepped on by huge paws. Once you have more of your breath back, you sit up and ever so slightly lean over the edge to look as well, voicing “Guess we’ll be sticking around for a while, I dropped my guns too.”

“Damn, and you sure you got all those butt-ugly handlers?”

“You know they’re wearing masks and padding.”

“They’re still definitely ugly on the inside.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, so thankful for his humor to focus on rather than the pack of Blissed out wolves eager for your flesh in their mouths. You did, in fact, manage to take out all of the humans of the outpost you were trying to recover, sniping them from the safety of the tall grass. However, one bullet from a perfect headshot kept traveling to the destroy the main breaker for all of the Judges’ cages, leading you to being stuck in this tree a little worse for wear.

It takes a second for you to realize just how tiny this hunting spot is. Most of the wooden planks have been destroyed, and many are rotting and waiting for the next idiot to put too much weight on them. Night is quickly upon you, and as you take another glance down, you see the glowing green eyes that are not going anywhere anytime soon. 

Sharky seems to pick up on your train of thought and says, “Well, last time I checked, wolves can’t climb trees, so I think we’re good for tonight.”

The bags under your eyes and the physical exhaustion of sprinting full speed for so long has taken its toll. You sigh before replying, “If we’re going to get any sleep tonight, I think it would be best to tie ourselves to the tree, so we don’t fall off.”

As he watches you pull up a rope that was hanging off the ledge, a lopsided grin spread across his face, “Kinda kinky, but you’re the boss.”

“ _Ha-ha_ , now c’mere, I need your help and your heat,” you command with a faux laugh, and he quickly obliges, helping you loop the rope around the tree before laying down with you. 

“Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” he asks, blue eyes sparkling with mischief while he props himself up with his elbow, so you can wrap the rope around his waist then yours. 

“Little,” you murmur, tying a secure knot and bringing your body comfortably close to Sharky’s. Your back is pressed flush against his chest, arm tucked under your head as a makeshift pillow. He takes off his hat and shoves it into the back pocket of his jeans before draping his arm over you, enveloping you in his warmth. 

Shifting to get into a better position on these unforgiving planks of wood, you feel a short puff of breath against the back of your neck and Sharky’s hand quickly goes to still your hips. Twisting your head to try and look at him, you ask in an annoyed whisper, “What?”

“If you keep moving like that, I’m going to end up poppin’ a boner and making everyone uncomfortable here,” he says in a low voice as his grip loosens on your hip and returns his arm back to its position.

“For fuck’s sake,” you scowl as you turn around in his arms, adjusting the rope so you’re not laying directly on the knot. In a different time that would have embarrassed you, making you blush and stutter incoherently. But now, tired and tied to your best ally in all the county, you don’t care. “This better?” you ask now that you’re facing him, legs pressed together but a gap between your hips. 

“Yeah, now I’ll get to wake up to your nasty morning breath,” his toothy grin never fails to make the corners of your lips to twitch up.

With a smack to his chest you counter, “Whatever, I have literally never seen you brush your teeth.”

“Alcohol kills bacteria so why would I need to?” he snorts, then quickly adds, “I’m just playing, Dep, don’t go telling all your girlfriends I don’t practice basic hygiene, I wash my ass like the best of them.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say with a yawn, fully intent on telling Grace as soon as you see her again. A cool gust of wind hits your back, giving you an involuntary shiver. You cuddle closer to your companion, grabbing and moving his arm so it wraps tightly around you, stealing as much of his heat as you can. You can barely make out his chuckling as you bury your face against his soft sweatshirt and hot chest. 

“Speaking of dreams, I’m gonna have some crazy ones sleeping up here, I can feel it-,” he starts before you quickly cut in, your exhaustion getting the better of you.

“Sharky, please, let me sleep.”

“Fine, but I’m going to wake you up if I have a good dream to tell you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you say barely audibly as you feel yourself melting into his body, somehow extremely snug in this odd sleeping arrangement. You miss him telling you goodnight, and you are already passed out when he holds you tighter and presses his face into your hair, breathing you in. It’s a good thing you decided to hunker down because you two are stuck up there for a good 12 hours before Eli is able to send a helicopter to get you. Time, however, never feels like an issue when you’re with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Reloading your handgun and sitting on the porch of the Spread Eagle, you wait for Sharky to come pick you up. Everyone has finished celebrating the liberation of Holland Valley and the demise of John Seed. Mary May’s bar is finally vacated from the party-goers, and after the final person left this morning, you felt the weight of getting the region back in shape. During the celebration, Sharky had hitched a ride back to the Henbane river to load up on his cache of ammo he keeps in his trailer. One radio call from you this afternoon and he was on his way back. You can just imagine him barreling through the roadblocks to come get you. You swipe your arm across your face to wipe away sweat as the sun is beating down on you relentlessly. Wincing, you realize you forgot about your broken nose and the gash from your lip to your chin. Stealthily taking down Peggies is not always pain-free as shown by the multiple elbows to the face you received while busting out of the bunker. 

Creating quite the dust storm, that familiar jeep is finally on the horizon. As in character as he can possibly be, Sharky roars into Fall’s End, screeching to a halt and leaving black marks on the road with the biggest grin. As you stand to greet him, you can’t help the smile that appears on your lips when you’re in his presence despite the sharp prick of pain from your cut. He honks jokingly while you circle the car to get to the passenger seat. Once you climb in, he turns down his radio, so you can focus on his raspy voice. “Damn Dep, you look like shit.”

“Yeah, well,” you give him a once over, about to say the same thing but unable to lie. He seems to have actually bathed and washed his favorite sweatshirt while you were away. It makes you a little self-conscious about your blossoming bruises. “It’s nice to see you too…”

With a chuckle, he puts his car back into drive and asks, “So, where to?”

“Saw some very flammable silos with your name on them,” you reply as you pull out your map to point him in the general direction.

“Oh, fuck yeah! You truly know the way to a man’s heart.”

“Through explosives?”

“You got that right,” with a grin, he burns out of Fall’s End, clearly enjoying the smell of burnt rubber and the lack of reinforced speed limits.

You let him know when the turns are coming up, but he knows this area better than you do, a story of his sexcapades spilling from his lips every couple of miles. You don’t think he’s ever had sex in his own bed, just public places spotted around the county. He stops suddenly after missing a turn, causing your body to jerk against the seat belt, a problem he never has because he refuses to wear his. Involuntarily, you let out a cry of pain and quickly unbuckle yourself, putting your hand gingerly on your chest. 

With wide eyes, he puts the car in park and shuts off the ignition, turning in his seat to look at you. “If ya have some broken ribs we can just hang out at the Eagle…” he suggests. “You don’t have to go right back into the fighting you know.”

“If you weren’t such a terrible driver, I’d be fine,” you snap, the pain on your chest causing you to be short. “It’s not my ribs.”

“What is it then?” he asks, unfased by your curt response and insult.

With a silent shake of your head, you start unbuttoning your flannel shirt. Sharky just shifts in his seat, for once unsure of what to say as you pull down your tank top to reveal the word _WRATH_ half tattooed, half carved into your chest. The skin around it is hot and angry from the forcefulness with which it was written, and even when you gently right your tank top back in place, it stings. 

“What the fuck…” your companion whispers under his breath, and when you tilt your head to meet his stare, his eyes are burning with fury. Once he sees the shame on your face, his calloused hand immediately reaches across to rest on your knee, and he forces his expression to brighten. “Hey, it’s not that bad, we can get it covered up. Or! I could get a matching one, that’d be sick.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in your throat nor the tears that roll from your cheeks at his own version of kindness and thoughtfulness that no one else in this county has shown you repeatedly without falter. Leaving your knee, his hand reaches up to brush some tears away before finding your fingers and intertwining them with his. 

“If matching tattoos are too much commitment, you just gotta tell me Dep, but you can’t deny that ‘wrath’ surrounded by flames would be the most badass thing we could do as best friends. Besides, you know, saving the county from a cult and all that jazz,” he babbles, trying to distract you from the pain and the overwhelming emotions you’re feeling. 

Nodding, you sniffle before saying, “That would be pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, now, as much as I want to burn shit down, those silos can wait.” Reluctantly, he pulls his hand away from yours and turns the car back on before adding, “I think there’s a beer with your name on it back in town.”

“As long as you buy the first round,” you say with a smirk, carefully drying your cheeks without touching your nose or lip. He’s also careful, driving way slower than usual and not hitting any shrubs or weak fences like he usually does. Once he’s turned around and on the straight shot back to the bar, his hand falls from the steering wheel. Instead of holding onto his handgun like he usually does, his fingers find their way back to yours. Even though his hand is balmy, as he is almost always sweating, you hold onto it like a lifeline. 

Once you’re back in Fall’s End, making your way into the Spread Eagle, your hands don’t leave each other. Mary May gives you an exaggerated glance down then a raised eyebrow when she sees you two but doesn’t verbalize her passing judgement as she rests two pints on the bar. Her face has some matching bruises and cuts to yours, but not nearly to the same extent. She fought hard against John, but it was you alone in that bunker to rescue Joey and the rest of the Hope County citizens trapped inside. 

Sharky awkwardly drinks his beer with his left hand, refusing to let go of you. A drop of alcohol is all it takes for the chatterbox to be set off, and you sleepily prop your head up with an elbow on the bar, watching him talk about the first time he made a Molotov cocktail. 

You smile sweetly at him and knock back any drink that finds its way in front of you until things start becoming hazy. There’s heat in your stomach and a buzz in your brain, fingers numb until you squeeze Sharky’s hand to regain feeling. “Hey, Shnarky,” you slur, accidentally mispronouncing his nickname, “stop talking for a second.”

“Huh?” he squeaks as your fingertips brush from his lips to his bearded chin, holding it between your thumb and finger. 

“I just wanna-,” you cut yourself off as you lean closer, your lips connecting roughly enough for your teeth to clink against his. For a split second, you feel him press back, lips moving against yours in the slightest before jerking his head back in surprise. 

“Hey!” Mary May swats her bar towel at you as she exclaims, “If you’re drunk enough to be making a move on Sharky, you’re cut off, Dep.”

In your inebriated state, that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. You’re smiling so wide that it’s pulling the fresh cut on your lip, but the pain doesn’t stop you from laughing and affectionately smacking a very confused Sharky’s chest. “Okay, _mom_ ,” you burst into laughter at your lame attempt at a joke. 

Sharky chuckles next to you, only slightly buzzed as he can hold his liquor much better than you, but your giggles are infectious. “I’ll take her to her room,” he says sincerely to Mary May, and she gives him a scolding look before he assures her, “I’ll be a gentleman.”

At the mention of your room, you shoot up, and the world spins around you. Grabbing dramatically onto Sharky’s hoodie, the cotton bunches in your fists as he grips your hip to keep your legs from giving out under you. You huff out another laugh before steadying yourself and letting go of his sweatshirt, but his hands don’t leave you. Pushing himself off the bar stool, his arm slips around your waist, taking most of your weight as he leads you to the stairs. 

“Not a good idea tryin’ to drink me under the table,” you hear him say as he painstakingly helps you up the steps one by one and adds once he knows everyone is out of earshot, “but damn do you taste good.”

“You taste like cheap beer,” you giggle as he finally pulls you up to the second story of the building. Fall’s End was the first place you helped free from the clutches of the cult, and to return the favor, Mary May converted her spare room so you could crash with her when you were in the area. She tried to help make it yours, thank-you notes and Polaroids posted on a corkboard, clothes she scavenged specially for you folded up in the dresser, and a huge gun locker at the foot of your bed. 

“I’m betting good money that you’re going to pass out as soon as your head hits the pillow,” he smiles at you so warmly that even in the state you’re in, your heart flutters. 

Pushing the door to your room open, he gently sits you on the corner of your neatly made bed. “Probably,” you mumble, kicking off your dirty boots, then pausing, body swaying as you can’t even sit up straight. “Will you stay with me?”

“Naw, you know double M doesn’t like it when I’m up here.” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling just as disappointed as you. “She’s never liked me.”

Scoffing, you grab his hand and pull him between your parted knees. The determination on your flushed face ever present as you declare, “Everyone around here is an idiot and missing out on the best damn thing in this county, you’re my best friend!”

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand as he looks down at you. Your eyelids are heavy, and he realizes he’s keeping you up. How many times has he said the same thing to you when you’ve helped him back on his feet in the middle of a battle and you’re only now verbalizing it back while drunk? He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, to which you groan in frustration and paw at his sleeves. “I’ve gotta boogie, firecracker, give me a call when you’ve sobered up.”

Your tight grip on his hoodie won’t let up, so he peels it off and sets it on your lap. Even though he just washed it, it still smells like him and holds some of his never-ending warmth, so you clutch it closely. The soft, worn cotton will feel much better on the sensitive skin of your chest than a sweaty tank top and a mildly itchy flannel. You try to grin up at him in triumph, but it falters when you see his torturous expression. He looks as though he’s fighting a wild inner battle, clearly wanting to stay by your side. 

In a moment of clarity, you do the right thing and release him, but every word of your surprisingly coherent response tastes false on your whiskey drenched lips, “Thank you Shark, I’ll take your advice and rest up. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

With a curt nod and a fake salute, he’s backing towards the door, saying, “You deserve it, but please don’t puke on my sweatshirt, I _just_ cleaned it.”

You wave, and he’s gone, closing the door behind him. His heavy footsteps grow quieter and quieter. Changing quickly out of all your clothes besides some fresh undergarments and his hoodie, you shimmy under the covers. He was right, as soon as you laid your head down, you were out like a light. It would have been better however, if he was next to you to collect the reward on his bet.


	3. Chapter 3

On your way back to the prison from a particularly brutal personal mission with Adelaide, you and Sharky make a stop by his trailer to pick up some more fuel for his flamethrower and a new set of tires for his jeep. “I know you’re flush with prepper stash cash, but alls I’m saying is that I can go get my flamer fuel for free, anytime,” he yells from around the corner as you marvel at all the signs he’s stolen and put on his home. 

“I just don’t understand how you can be so cheap on the brink of the apocalypse,” you say as you return to where he’s kneeling, just finishing changing the final tire on his car. His favorite sweatshirt and both of your impressive stash of guns are sitting in the backseat because although you feel better with your assault rifle attached to your back, Sharky convinced you that Boshaw Manor was safe. It was strange to be standing around without the comforting weight of metal in your arms just as it was to see Sharky in something other than his hoodie, in this case a simple black t-shirt. 

He shoots you a quick smirk before pulling the collapsed jack out from under the car and haphazardly tossing it aside. “Well, ready to roll out whenever you are, boss.”

“Great, they’re expect-,” you pause mid sentence to tilt your head towards a seemingly familiar sound, “is there a pig nearby? I hear snorting.”

“Oh shit,” the man hisses as he scrambles to his feet, whipping his head to look around, “we’ve gotta split, Dep, now.”

You’ve never seen Sharky so serious about anything before, the panic on his face making you laugh until you turn and see the reason why. With a gasp, you slowly take a step backwards towards him and his outstretched arms. The culprit, a relatively small skunk, is sniffing around Sharky’s trailer. You have encountered almost every kind of animal you could roaming around Montana, but this one sends true fear to your heart. 

Locking eyes with the black and white fiend, you desperately shake your head as it squeals and turns around. With every fiber of your being, you hope that the thing will flee, but of course, nothing ever goes your way. You feel Sharky’s rough hands grab your arms, trying to pull you away before the skunk sprays, but it’s too late and now both of you are doused in the foulest odor you’ve ever smelled. 

“Ah fuck, not again!” Sharky coughs out before covering his mouth. The smell is so putrid it makes your throat wretch, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes try to cleanse themselves. Thankfully, the skunk was satisfied with one spray, and runs off. Your vision is blurry beyond belief, but you can hear rustling over Sharky’s coughs as he pulls off all of his clothing. 

You can just barely make out his naked form before you turn away in surprise. “What the hell are you doing?” you exclaim between gags. 

“These clothes are fucking toast, gotta shower then burn them, c’mon,” he urges, starting to tug at your ruined jacket. To your chagrin, he was absolutely right. You didn’t want to spend another second in the stink-soaked fabric. You leave your clothes in a pile outside as he drags you into his trailer, moving quickly so the smell won’t linger in his home. Thankfully he knows the layout of his mobile home like the back of his hand, able to guide you to the bathroom and start the shower before both of your vision starts to return. 

Covering your chest, suddenly aware of your state of undress in front of Sharky, you feel your cheeks heat up. How easily he was able to get you out of your panties and in his home is almost hilarious. He’s now rummaging through his minimal bathroom storage, mixing something together so expertly it’s like he’s done this a million times. “What are you doing?” you ask, relieved you can talk without gagging now. 

“Hydrogen peroxide, vinegar, and dish soap,” he answers you, mixing all those things together with his hands in a bowl. You forget how smart he is in his own ways. 

“And you just have all of that laying around in your bathroom?”

“This ain’t my first skunk rodeo.”

“Of course not,” you breathe a sigh and stand a little closer to the tiny shower, letting the steam help clear your eyes. 

“All right get in and I’ll… uh…” he falters, and you look over your shoulder to see what the delay is. He’s blinking a lot more than normal, but clearly the temporary blindness has subsided enough for him to drink you in like a tall glass of water. Since you’re able to see his eyes wandering, yours must be clearing too. 

His hair is tousled from knocking off his hat in the ruckus, but that gold chain necklace still graces his collarbones. Rarely seeing him out of his hoodie, let alone shirtless, you wonder if he was trying to hide anything. He has nice, lean muscles and a soft stomach. To no surprise he has a good amount of chest hair, especially from his naval leading down towards his— bowl of chemicals he is white knuckling. 

Clearing your throat, your eyes shoot back up to his face and those pink lips of his are ever-so-slightly parted. “It sprayed my back, can you…?” You tilt your head towards the shower that was built to only hold one person and hold back laughter as he nods so incredibly enthusiastically he may get whiplash. 

You step into the hot water, and he follows you quickly, taking a generous helping of the mixture then setting the bowl just outside the stall so it doesn’t get diluted. He lets the water wash over you before putting his hands on your skin, uncharacteristically quiet as he scrubs. Finishing with the scour of your shoulder blades, then the curve of your spine, he moves slower on the small of your back. The combination of his warm hands and the cool metal of his rings moving small circles deeply into your skin makes it feel like you’re being massaged by an angel. 

“Should I do my hair?”

“What? Oh, uh yeah, I can… do it for you,” his hands stop all movement as he answers, his scratchy voice sounding desperate, “probably best if you don’t… turn around.”

“Oh, _oh _,” you enunciate as you realize what he means and keep facing the white shower wall but definitely wanting to see what’s been hiding in those jeans.__

__“Now I’m going to get a hard-on every time I smell skunk,” he mumbles to himself while getting some more of the mixture. As soon as his fingers run through your hair, your head tilts back on instinct, sighing heavenly. He carefully washes out the mixture, but his hands linger on the nape of your neck as he says, “You’re so fine- I mean, good. You’re good.”_ _

__Glancing at him, a small smirk on your lips you ask, “Where did you get sprayed? Want me to get it?”_ _

__“Hell- I ain’t going to stop you if you’re offering.” With some careful maneuvering, you switch places so Sharky is the one under the water, resisting the temptation to look down, which wouldn’t help anyways because both of his hands are cupping and covering his groin. “Got me in the chest.”_ _

__With one hand, you scoop the mixture up, your other arm still covering your breasts. Awkwardly, you run your singular hand over his chest, barely able to really scrub out the smell as he did for you. “This isn’t working,” you huff, releasing your breasts and really getting to work on his chest, the heat radiating off of him and the steam from the hot water making the little shower stall feel like a sauna._ _

__At the exposure of your chest, Sharky throws his head back so quickly to deter himself from looking that he slams it against the shower wall. You can’t help but laugh as he winces in pain and keeps his eyes pinched so shut his face may end up being stuck like that. “I’m sorry,” he says, spitting some water out to the side._ _

__“Hm,” is all you say, a smirk on your lips as you run your hands over his pecs and down to his stomach. Every muscle you touch seems to tighten and you are thoroughly enjoying his undoing by your fingertips. You clean his skin until the smell of skunk is miraculously eliminated, thanks to his quick knowledge of chemicals. Pausing your movements, you glance up at his face. Sharky’s lower lip is caught between his teeth, and his head is tilted back at just the right angle to show off his thick neck and adam’s apple. He dares to open one eye and peek at you when he feels you stop._ _

__“You done? Smells like it,” he releases his lip to say, and it is ruby red from the misuse._ _

__“Sharky, what are we doing?” you ask sincerely, your fingers still lingering on his chest._ _

__He shifts uncomfortably in the shower, showing great restraint as he looks you in the eye without glancing down at your body. “Uh,” he stumbles over his words, “Showering together, I guess. You know, like bros do.”_ _

__“No,” you voice strongly enough for it to echo in the shower, and the poor man looks so confused._ _

__“I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to say here, Dep,” he chuckles awkwardly._ _

__It’s frustrating. You can never seem to get him to shut up until you want him to say something that has been unspoken since the day you met. Taking matters into your own hands, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself into his body until he has no choice but to hold tightly onto your hips. You’re a breath away from each other, and you chicken out at the last moment because if you do this, it’ll mean more than you’re willing to admit._ _

__He can’t help himself, being the one brave enough to close the gap and kiss you so hungrily as if making up for lost time. His beard feels scratchy against your skin that has become sensitive from being in the shower for too long, but the way his mouth moves against yours is worth it. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, kissing you so hard that your teeth click together like they did in the bar._ _

__You two make the shower even steamier, working through all of the un-acted upon sexual tension that has been brewing between you. There is no desire to talk about what this could possibly mean for your friendship, because for all you know, with the state of the county and the world, this could be your only chance. And to think, this is all thanks to a skunk._ _


	4. Chapter 4

To your great surprise, your romp in the shower that led to his bed has not been discussed by either of you. Sharky still treats you the same, as his best friend but with a couple of extra benefits. It definitely wasn’t a one-time thing. Whenever you’re safe and alone with each other, the clothes fly off and your hands are instantly on each other. He has even given you some of that _oral_ treatment he talks up so much, and boy, you were not disappointed. Even if you two were to talk about what this all means, you wouldn’t have much to say as the future of the county is so up in the air.

After a couple days of rest and celebration following the demise of Faith and the upheaval at the prison, you were back in the fight. The only Herald left now is Jacob, and you’ve already been captured by him three times. You could try to avoid his region and being captured for a fourth time, but of course, you find yourself in the Whitetail Mountains, resting on a cliff vantage point. Eli has entrusted you with a handful of missions, and you can’t bare to watch the Whitetails continue to be picked off by Jacob’s Chosen. This is the last region, the last Seed sibling before Joseph. You have to keep going. 

You’re lying on your stomach, and you have your sniper perfectly positioned to get a good view of your surroundings through the scope. Finger resting near the trigger but not on it, you shift towards a new source of light. Staci’s words, ‘you can’t ever go back,’ ring in your ears while you’re near Jacob’s terrain, but you’ve come too far to give up now. The sun is just starting to set, but it seems so much more sudden when you’re tucked away in the mountains. It’s just the right time at dusk for people to unknowingly reveal their location to you. Twisting some optics on your scope, you zoom in towards what looks like a cabin hidden in the trees. There’s a small campfire, growing bigger the longer you look, and someone passes in front of it, holding something oddly shaped.

“Hm,” you say mostly to yourself, but the vibration of your sound causes Sharky to stir. He hates grappling, and you’ve really been pushing his energy limit with the cliffs today. He chose to take a quick nap while you surveyed and is using the dip of your back as a resting place for his head, his cap pulls over his eyes. He doesn’t move any further, so you go back to focusing on the cabin.

Following the movements of the shadow, you wait for the campfire to grow so you can see better. Two more things moving around reveal themselves and you tense, your finger inching towards the safety of your gun. However, once the fire gets going, you see that it’s two people dancing and one sitting with a guitar, all wearing bright clothes. You breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not Peggies, but as you continue watching, the couple holding each other so close, you get a weird feeling in your chest. 

The strange need to chase that feeling blooms, and you start getting up to rouse Sharky. You hear him take in a sharp inhale as he wakes and sits up, adjusting his hat back to its rightful place while asking, “What’d I miss?”

“There’s something in the tree line I need to check out,” you reply, putting your gun away and brushing the dirt off the front of your shirt and jacket. 

“You’re fucking with me,” he groans, and as he stands. You can hear some of his joints popping. “You made me climb all the way up a goddamn mountain just to go right back down? There wasn’t even anything cool up here!” 

You’re too distracted to reply, stuffing your things into your pack and carefully checking the amount of ammo you brought. Sharky grumbles as he does the same, knowing that he should stop talking when you get this focused, but he always speaks up anyways.

“I could be at home, watching my soaps with Hurk by now. But nooooo, we just _had_ to go up a mountain.”

“I don’t have to take you out with me, you know. Grace is a much better shot than you are.”

“That hurts, Dep. It’s true, but it still hurts.”

You shake your head with a short laugh then fasten your grappling hook to the conveniently placed zip line. Before you can hear more of his complaints, you begin your descent of whichever Whitetail mountain you’re on. Sharky is hot on your heels, and you know that if he hadn’t just woken up grumpy, he would be excited to ‘zip it.’ Your surroundings are bathed in darkness, and you’re not quite sure where you’ll land, but you don’t want to risk the brightness of your flashlight showing your position to Jacob and his Chosen. All you can think about as you zip down the mountainside is the couple dancing by the fire. You don’t know why you’re so fixated on it, but you have to get there. 

Once you reach the end of the line and disconnect yourself, you squint your eyes to help them adjust to the darkness that looms in the forest. Sharky arrives shortly after you with a grunt and a small stumble, but in one piece. “What the hell are you after?” he asks, catching his breath from the exertion. 

“Something in the tree line,” you repeat as you start making your way towards a faint glow in the general direction of where you saw the campfire. Your companion sighs dramatically and jogs to catch up to you, unwilling to be left behind in an unfamiliar forest. 

“What exactly?” he prods, far too loudly for your comfort. 

You turn and swat his chest with a shush before you say in a low voice, “Just trust me, I need this.”

As you turn back around towards your destination, you feel Sharky’s rough fingers slide into your palm. Without saying anything, you hold his hand tightly and march onward. You get more hopeful with every step towards the campfire, the glow growing stronger through the trees, until it’s suddenly gone, and you stop in your tracks. The darkness is overwhelming.

Sharky’s grip tightens around your hand as he whispers, “What the fuck just happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” you reply, overcome with fear. Anxiety about your past visits with Jacob swells in your throat. You don’t know if you should continue forward to try and help the people at the cabin or take off running in the opposite direction. 

A pack of Judges begin to howl from the direction of where the fire was, and your stomach drops. Sharky slides his shotgun off of his shoulder and takes a couple of steps backwards, pulling at your arm and urging you to fall back with him. “C’mon, Dep, we have to get lost.” 

“The people-“ you’re cut off by the screams of citizens being torn to bits by the judges. It’s too late for them now. Although you and Sharky can hardly see, as soon as you turn on your heel and sprint, he follows.

There is rustling from the undergrowth all around you, and you suddenly don’t trust the trees anymore. The whiz of an arrow beside your ear sounds deafening, and you cover your head with your free hand as Sharky starts pulling you east, towards Faith’s liberated region. All you have to do is dive into the bliss-infested waters of the Henbane and you’ll be safe. The Chosen rarely ever follow you that far. 

You’re so close you can smell the bliss. The trees begin tapering off to signify the body of water, and once again, Sharky’s adrenaline has propelled him forward. There are lights across the water that are peaking through the forest, probably from Adelaide’s marina. An all too familiar song begins playing and only urges you forward as both of your hands clap against your ears. You know that you have to get away from the music. Now. All of your muscles are burning, and you can feel your pulse pounding through your body so hard that you almost don’t feel the arrow rip through your calf.

_Only you…_

Falling to the ground, a mouth full of dirt muffles your screaming. Sharky’s too far ahead to hear you now, so you claw your way back up and begin limping forward. You break through the tree line just in time to watch Sharky dive into the water with a splash. It’s so bright all of a sudden but not from the marina lights. The bliss that Jacob uses is different, enough of it could make someone an Angel in a day, rotting out their brain with this super strain. 

_Can make this world seem right…_

You know that you won’t make it to the water. As the song progresses, you’re back on the ground, pulling yourself towards the river with your arms. The usual green sparkly haze of Bliss turns red, and you grunt as you use the last of your consciousness and sanity to reach the edge of the water. The last thing you feel is the lapping of the river on your fingertips. The last thing you hear over that damn song is Sharky calling your name. The last thing you see are the stars in the Montana sky as you roll over onto your back and let the red Bliss take you. 

_Only you…  
Can make the darkness bright…_


	5. Chapter 5

_It’s done,_ they tell you. _Hope County is saved, all because of you,_ they say. _At what cost,_ you wonder. Eli is dead. A bullet from your own gun through his forehead. John, Faith, Jacob, all dead by your hand. Countless Peggies, Angels, and innocent civilians are all dead because of you. There is so much blood on your hands. _Was it worth it?_

These thoughts have been clouding your mind since Eli’s funeral. You have been spending the following days holed up in your room above the Spread Eagle. Everyone, including Sharky, has been leaving you alone for the most part. All of your companions have kept their distance because they know there’s one last thing to do before the county is truly liberated. Before you turned off your radio, you heard Nick talking about activity in Joseph’s compound on one of his flyovers. You have to finish what you started and put those handcuffs on Joseph once and for all.

Mary May is the only one who bothers you, coming into your room to make sure you’re eating the meals Casey has been making you and to pin more thank-you notes and pictures to your corkboard. It’s completely covered, there’s no more space left, and you want to escape. You pack a bag, leave Mary May your own handwritten thank-you letter, and take off towards the Henbane on your ATV. You don’t stop until you reach Sharky’s trailer. 

Dusk is just beginning as you climb off your vehicle and walk once around the mobile home, a safety habit that was taught to you in the Police Academy that has been ingrained into your mind here. A few lights are on, but he hasn’t been home in a couple of hours. However, his car is still here, so he can’t be far. 

You decide to walk down towards the trailer park where you met, and as you reach the top of the hill, you can see a bonfire in the middle of the park where the school bus used to be. As you make your descent, you can see that quite a few people have returned to the Moonflower. Most are around the fire, but a few are sitting on lawn chairs above the trailers.

As you enter the park, some of the Hope County citizens greet you with thanks and offers of their food and ammo. You politely decline, and after the initial buzz of the county hero visiting their camp dies, they leave you alone. When the small crowd disperses, you finally see that green hoodie and cheesy grin. Sharky rushes over to you and envelopes you in his arms, his cheek pressed against the side of your head. You drop your bag to hold onto him, and you can’t help but melt into his embrace. 

Sharky tilts his head back and cradles your cheek in the rough palm of his hand to get a better look at you. He rests his forehead against yours, knocking his hat off next to your bag, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I missed you, Dep,” Sharky says quietly, as if suddenly aware of the audience.

“I missed you too,” you breathe as you lean into him, your lips barely touching before someone yells for Sharky to feed the bonfire. 

He huffs in annoyance but pulls away from you to tend to the little community he seems to have created. He scoops up his hat and jogs over to the side of one of the trailers to pile wood into his arms. As you tuck your bag behind one of the trailers and make your way over to the center of the park, Sharky throws the wood into the bonfire and pulls a little container from his back pocket. He unscrews the cap and throws liquid onto the fire. Clearly lighter fluid, you decide after the flames swell, the immediate heat radiating onto your face, and people cheer. He seems pleased that his arson is being appreciated rather than vilified as he returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

The crackling of the bonfire and the soft hum of conversation is suddenly interrupted by a man tuning his guitar. The random plucks of the strings eventually turn into a song. You watch more people gather around the musician as the fire and Sharky’s body heat warm you. The sun has officially set, and the Montana night grows colder in the bask of the moonlight. Someone produces a tambourine to accompany the guitar, and you remember the couple you saw dancing in the Whitetail mountains. 

The guitarist and the woman playing the tambourine begin to softly sing [ a familiar song,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qTo-PemS9Jo) one that you’ve heard Sharky hum to himself and turn up the volume when it comes on the radio. Sharky grins and asks, “Care to dance, Dep?”

“What?” you laugh, until you realize that some other couples are holding each other closely, swaying to the rhythm of the disco-era song. 

“C’mon,” Sharky urges you, taking a couple of steps closer to the music and bringing you close to him. His hands rest on the natural curves of your sides, and you put your arms over his shoulders. You keep your eyes only on him. No matter what you go through, he always looks so relaxed and happy when he’s near you, the skin around his eyes always crinkled from a smile. 

You begin to sway to the calming music, taking little steps to make sure you don’t accidentally step on your partner’s toes. It feels all too normal to be dancing after everything that’s happened. It feels good. If you confront Joseph, will this all go away? As a deputy sheriff, it’s your duty to arrest the cult leader for the atrocities he has committed in Hope County, but what happens then? You can’t just go back to your normal life, not after everything you’ve been through and everything you’ve done. There’s too much blood on Hope County land because of you, and your throat feels thick with it. 

“What? I got something on my face?” Sharky asks as one of his hands leaves your side to run over his beard. You can’t stop staring at him, at the way the flames from the bonfire are dancing in his pupils. Sharky asks another question when you don’t laugh at his joke, “How are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“You worried about Joseph?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat.

Sharky wraps his arms around you, bringing your body completely flush to his. It’s comforting to be in his arms. “I know you needed some time after Jacob and Eli, but…” he trails off and kisses your forehead gently, “I’m here for you, Dep. You’re my best friend in this whole damn county.”

Your hands drag down his chest and you press your face into the nook of his neck, the thickness in your throat succumbing to sobs. There’s a sinking feeling that the moment you leave to apprehend Joseph, the world as you have come to know it will come to an end. There will be no more long car rides with Sharky and Hurk. No more shooting lessons with Grace and Jess. No more flying with Nick and Adelaide. No more petting Boomer, Peaches, and Cheeseburger. No more room at Mary May’s bar. No more security checks with Tracey and Whitehorse at the jail. No more Eli-

You start sobbing harder when you remember that Eli is already no more because of you. You feel Sharky rubbing your back and pressing his cheek against your head. There’s so much that you’re going to lose. You feel so incredibly selfish that you are thinking about yourself in the grand scheme of things. The people of Hope County have lost so much more than you can even imagine, and they deserve justice. Joseph has to be stopped. Hope County will heal better without you after you make your final sacrifice. 

As you begin to contain your crying, you choke out, “I-I don’t want to lose you.”

“There ain’t nothing in this world that can keep me from you, firecracker,” he murmurs into your hair. 

He gives you a squeeze before he suddenly lets go of you. You sniff and rub the tears away as you watch him reach behind his neck. Sharky unclasps the gold chain necklace that you have never seen him without. He holds the two ends up as he waits for you to twist around and lift the hair from the back of your neck. Once it’s around your neck, you touch it delicately as you let your hair fall back down. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen after we get Joseph,” you say softly as you turn back to face him, your fingers still resting on his necklace. 

“Well, think of this as a promise,” he replies as he adjusts the clasp so it’s completely hidden, “A promise that no matter what happens, I’ll still be your best friend and only a call away.”

All you can do is nod and smile. No matter how sincere Sharky is, there isn’t a promise that can truly be kept in the wreckage of Hope County. He brings to you back to his body, with one hand on the side of your neck and his thumb pushing your chin up to look at him. You press your lips to his as the [ song changes.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUEBY00itYI) There’s no telling what will happen after you go back to where it all began at Joseph’s compound. But for a brief moment in Sharky’s arm, you feel hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this two years ago as just a self-indulgent thing to get some of my Far Cry 5 obsession out. I love Sharky, I would die for him. I love hearing from you guys, so please leave a comment! If you post frequent comments I may offer a free request or may contact you to give me ideas to write the sequel of this fic! Hopefully a New Dawn sequel will be coming soon!


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